Pat Bertram's Blog, page 28

Wishing You the Joy of This Day

Despite the predominately religious meanings of today, such as Easter and Passover, there is a personal spiritual meaning in it for all of us — that no matter how down (or up!) we are, we can find a renewal, a liberation, a breaking open of the constraints that bind us so we can burst forth into a new day, a new way of being.

I didn’t do anything special with this new day except water my grass, bushes, and other plants, didn’t go looking for anything spiritual, though a sense of renewal seems to come automatically when I’ve spent so much time outside with all the green surrounding me as well as the patches of colorful tulips.

Many people claim to feel a more general sense of renewal, a sense that the world is on the brink spiritual awakening and enlightenment. Considering all that is going on — wars and murders and mass killings and wildfires, to say nothing of new strains of The Bob — it doesn’t seem as if this a time of renewal. It could be, I suppose, but since each person’s definition of enlightenment is different from everyone else’s, chances are we will always be teetering on the brink without ever managing to rise to a better way of being because everyone insists their way is the correct one and vilifies everyone who does not agree.

Still, even if we’re not headed toward a better way of being, all the unrest does remind us of what’s important, such as family and friends.

And gardens.

It’s hard not to feel a sense of all being right with the world when one is outside on a beautiful still day. It’s hard not to believe in a renewal of sorts when one sees evidence of dormant plants pushing their way to the surface again. Growing a garden is such a slow process that it’s important to enjoy the moment, to celebrate new growth, to take a step back and see the yard as a whole and not always focus on the plant that shows so little change from the day before.

I often feel a push for more — to walk more, to write more and better, to get stronger, healthier, wiser — that it’s good once in a while to burst out of the winding cloths I’ve wrapped myself in, and step out into the joy of simply being.

I’m overdoing the resurrection metaphor a bit, but so what? It’s a new day — a day for thinking of new possibilities, of being in the moment, of celebrating life.

Wishing you the joy of this day.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of intriguing fiction and insightful works of grief.

The Day Was Just Packed

This was one of those days that was so packed I barely had time to relax or eat, though I did manage to do both. Making the day even more insane was the wind. Without the wind, it would have been a lovely warm day, conducive to doing all I needed and wanted to get done, but with the wind? Yikes.

I started out walking errands. (Since I no longer run, I can’t in all honesty use the phrase “running errands,” and since the part for my brakes remains elusive — or perhaps it’s just the mechanic that remains elusive — I can’t run my car for errands, either.) I visited with friends I encountered at the store for a while, then went home and mowed the lawn.

The grass might not have been needed to be mown so soon — it was just last weekend, if I remember correctly, that I mowed it the first time — but I gave that lawn such a bad haircut that it needed to be redone. (The grass had been so tall, the poor mowers — both the machine and the human working the machine — struggled to get the job finished any way they could.)

I had just finished cutting the grass and was admiring my work when a man who lives across the street and down the alley came running up to me, all upset to see that the lawn had been mown. It turns out he wanted the clippings for his compost heap. I told him I still have the clippings — my mower mulches the clippings, so I spread them around my plants — but he wasn’t interested. He asked if he could have the clippings the next time, and I agreed; he even said he’d mow the lawn to get the clippings, and I agreed to that, too.

I did some other outside work, then came in for a quick bite to eat because a friend was due to come pick me up so we could join the community wellness walk. The wind was extraordinarily strong, but we did the walk. We just didn’t stand in line at all the check-in booths along the way. We knew we walked; it didn’t matter if anyone else knew, too.

As if that weren’t enough, I still had to go check out the house I am taking care of for an absent friend, and now here I am.

Whew! What a day!

The thing I am most proud of is that despite all that, I still took time to tiptoe through the tulips. Well, not through them, beside them. These particular tulips I planted alongside one of my pathways, and I am thrilled that the sight is as lovely as I hoped.

Yep. The day was just packed.

***

What if God decided S/He didn’t like how the world turned out, and turned it over to a development company from the planet Xerxes for re-creation? Would you survive? Could you survive?

A fun book for not-so-fun times.

Click here to buy Bob, The Right Hand of God.

Full Moon Agitation

I’ve been struggling with sleep the past couple of nights. One night I felt too unsettled to fall asleep and the other night was so bright when I awakened at 3:00 a.m. that I was sure it was almost time to get up. I’d thought in the past that such unsettled nights — especially when there is no reason for the agitation — presaged a full moon, but I didn’t think it was the issue here because we just had a full moon.

Still, I checked the calendar, and lo and behold — there it is. A full moon. The moon will reach its peak fullness tomorrow afternoon, and then begin to wane. The previous full moon was four weeks ago. (I am so losing track of time!)

Oddly, it’s the nights leading up to the full moon that are the problem. The fullness itself doesn’t cause a problem for me — at the peak fullness, the moon seems to sigh with relief that the arduous job of waxing is finished and is gladly getting ready to wane.

It’s not so odd now that I think about it. Often the buildup to something is either better or worse than the thing itself. The days before a grief anniversary, for example, are often worse than the anniversary itself, and the anticipation of a treat is sometimes more satisfying than the treat itself.

Knowing that the incipient full moon has begun to create a restlessness in me as I get older doesn’t help much, but it does keep me from worrying about a more serious cause for the insomnia. I’m just glad that tonight I’ll be getting back to sleeping well (or rather, as well as I ever do anymore). I’m also grateful I’ll have a full month before the next full moon — the flower moon, so called because May is the month of flowers. (The moon this month is called the pink moon because this is the time the creeping pink phlox blooms.)

I hope you have a happy full moon day tomorrow. I certainly intend to, especially after all the agitation the buildup has engendered in me.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One. “Grief: The Inside Story is perfect and that is not hyperbole! It is exactly what folk who are grieving need to read.” –Leesa Healy, RN, GDAS GDAT, Emotional/Mental Health Therapist & Educator.

Letting the Future Take Care of Itself

I accidentally came across an article yesterday about how signs of neglect when it comes to the home of an elderly person, such as an overgrown yard or dilapidated house, can prompt an investigation and perhaps have their home taken away.

I say I “accidentally” came across the article because it’s not a subject I would ever pursue on purpose — just that brief scan gave me the heebie-jeebies. I’m not sure how true it is that signs of neglect can prompt an investigation, especially in an area like this where there are so many derelict houses (many owned by the resident slumlord), but it made me worry about taking care of my house and made me wonder what I was thinking when I put in the lawn.

I can take care of both the house and lawn now with no problem, but as I get older? Not so much. And it’s doubtful whether I’d have the wherewithal to pay for getting things taken care of. So there I will be, a frail old lady, with an unkempt yard and a house desperately in need of paint, and . . .

Nope. Don’t want to go there.

Actually, I do know what I was thinking when I put in the yard. I wanted a small patch of green in the front because I figured I could easily take care of that even if I got frail, but I ended up with the tag-end of someone else’s sod job. I worried that those leftovers wouldn’t be enough to cover the area I’d set aside for a small lawn, but the workers kept laying the sod and laying the sod and pretty soon I had a pretty yard that will eventually be pretty hard to take care of.

I did have to laugh at my tarot reading today. The Three of Wands said I had great skill in realizing plans and goals, but the Two of Pentacles warned that my goals are becoming incompatible with reality. Yep. Sounds about right. Especially when it comes to the yard. The whole point of creating paths and planting wildflowers that will eventually naturalize was to make things easier on me in my old age, not harder.

But I can’t be sorry about the grass. It is so pretty! I’ll keep it looking good as long as I can and try not to worry about what comes after. I did think, the other day when I was mowing, that I should have put the pretty lawn on the neighbor’s property. That way I’d be able to enjoy it without having to do the upkeep!

I suppose I’ll get used to the work when I get used to the tools (the next one I need to figure out how to use is my string trimmer), but for the next few days, I’m taking a hiatus, both on the worrying and on the work. I’m not even watering anything. It’s just too darn windy to be outside.

By the time the wind dies down (according to the forecast, we’re in for a lot of wind for another couple of weeks), the last frost will have passed. I’m hoping the frost we had last night will be the last — it sure took a toll on my poor tulips. Luckily, I thought to take a picture yesterday when they were looking good.

Also, luckily, I am hale enough that I can still maintain myself and my property. That’s all that should matter today. The future can take care of itself.

***

What if God decided S/He didn’t like how the world turned out, and turned it over to a development company from the planet Xerxes for re-creation? Would you survive? Could you survive?

A fun book for not-so-fun times.

Click here to buy Bob, The Right Hand of God.

Safe and Well and At Peace

I am very grateful to be safe and well and at peace today, with only minor irritations to plague me, such as smoky air and wind. It doesn’t seem right to be grateful on my own behalf when there are so many problems in the world right now, not just internationally, but locally. Wildfires on either end of town pretty much isolated us yesterday because the highway had to be closed. (Not that the closure itself is a problem for me since I wasn’t planning on going anywhere, and even if I wanted to, I can’t drive until my brakes get fixed.) Some friends were evacuated, though most were allowed back home today. (The smoke is so bad in town, I can only imagine what it’s like out there near the burn zone even if they are so lucky as to be able to return home.) Others are still homeless, and from what I understand, a couple of houses did burn.

Then there are all the people I know who are still suffering long term affects from The Bob, as well as those with new and old cancer diagnoses.

I don’t even want to get into the whole war thing, except to say, doesn’t such a hot war seem out of place in the world today? Don’t we call ourselves homo sapiens sapiens? Not just wise man, but wise, wise man. Yeah, right.

On the other hand, even though it feels wrong to be grateful that I am safe and well and at peace, as if I were indulging in a bit of smugness (though truly, I am not), wouldn’t it be worse if I were not grateful? As if I took my good fortune for granted?

You grievers of all people know how little I take my good fortune for granted. We all have suffered such great losses and because of that, we are grateful for whatever peace and safety and wellness we manage to find. We also know how quickly fortunes change — health disappears in an instant, death comes between one breath and the next, what is given can be taken away.

I guess I’m answering my own question. Not the one about war, because that is unanswerable, but the one about it being worse if I were not grateful. Yes, it would be worse to take whatever good comes my way (even if it’s only good in relation to other people’s ill fortune) as if it were my due.

So, today — as every day — I am grateful to be well and safe and at peace. And I wish the same for you.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One. “Grief: The Inside Story is perfect and that is not hyperbole! It is exactly what folk who are grieving need to read.” –Leesa Healy, RN, GDAS GDAT, Emotional/Mental Health Therapist & Educator.

Elasticity of Time

The older I grow, the more elastic time seems to get. Whatever needs to be done can barely be fit into the time allotted before and after work. You’d think then, that days like today, when I go in a little later, that I would have an extra couple of hours to get things done, but it doesn’t work that way. Here I am, struggling to get a blog written, a meal fixed and eaten, and myself dressed before work as I always do.

So what happened to those extra two hours? Lost in the elasticity of time, obviously.

I tend to think of elasticity as something that only stretches, such as rubber band, but it seems to be also something that shrinks. Otherwise, I’d have plenty of time to do . . . whatever.

I suppose I should be grateful — and I am — for the discretionary time I do have. Things could be worse (they always can be, even for those of us who like to think things can always be better). Time could simply shrink all the time and never stretch back to what it was. Though some days, it feels like it only shrinks.

As I’m sure you can tell, this is one of those semi-nonsensical fill blogs, where I have nothing to say (and little time to say it), but since I’m on day 932 of a 1,000-day blog challenge, I need to post something. Not that I will stop blogging every day once I meet that goal, you understand, it’s just that having a goal keeps me going. I need the discipline of blogging every day. Just as posts like this are place holders for my more thoughtful essays, the blog itself is a placeholder for my novel writing since the habit writing something every day is good practice for that, too. When I am re-retired, I will get back to writing books, but meantime, here I am, trying to stretch time by cooking and writing at the same time, and not succeeding very well. (Burnt the bacon and splattered myself. Ouch!)

Still, time has stretched enough to get everything done. I might even make it to work on time!

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One. “Grief: The Inside Story is perfect and that is not hyperbole! It is exactly what folk who are grieving need to read.” –Leesa Healy, RN, GDAS GDAT, Emotional/Mental Health Therapist & Educator.

Blessed Are They Who Can Laugh at Themselves

I have to laugh at myself. Whenever I write that I think I’m getting the hang of this gardening thing, something happens to make me realize I am a far cry from being a master gardener.

Even one tulip can make a person think they know what they are doing, but the truth is, only the tulip really knows what it is doing. The rest of us are just along for the ride. I am, anyway.

Dealing with grass is a whole other story! (The lawn kind of grass.) I was proud of myself yesterday for finally getting the lawnmower to work and the grass cut, but this morning . . . eek.

The place looks like a kid just gave himself his first haircut, with some patches cut way to short (before I figured the grass was too thick to cut short) and other patches way too long (the edges I haven’t yet gotten around to trimming).

If that weren’t bad enough, I seem to have missed a few spots in the middle, maybe where the wheels matted the grass, and since it was so thick, it couldn’t spring up right away to be cut on the next lap.

Interestingly, I had to pause in writing this blog to go to work, and there I happened to come across a quote: “Blessed are they who can laugh at themselves because they will never cease to be amused.” Isn’t that the truth!

Luckily, not only do I have something to be amused about, and not only will the grass grow again so I can do it right, but I have tulips in my yard.

So, it’s possible, amusement aside, I really might get the hang of this gardening thing. Eventually.

***

What if God decided S/He didn’t like how the world turned out, and turned it over to a development company from the planet Xerxes for re-creation? Would you survive? Could you survive?

A fun book for not-so-fun times.

Click here to buy Bob, The Right Hand of God.

For Want of a Nail

I’ve been thinking about that old saying about for the want of a nail the kingdom was lost. The full proverb is:

“For the want of a nail the shoe was lost,
For the want of a shoe the horse was lost,
For the want of a horse the rider was lost,
For the want of a rider the battle was lost,
For the want of a battle the kingdom was lost,
And all for the want of a horseshoe-nail.”

What made me think of this proverb is my attempt to get my brakes fixed. The four brake cylinders were replaced, but the parts store sent a master cylinder with the wrong clocking, so that part never got replaced. The brakes worked fine for a few months, but the last time I drove and put on the brake, the pedal went all the way to the floor. The car stopped, but it spooked me, so I went back to the mechanic to get him to order the correct part. I checked on Friday to see what’s going on, and apparently, he hasn’t been able to find the right part.

And that’s when the saying, “for want of a nail,” started going through my head. A master cylinder isn’t that expensive, around fifty dollars, maybe, and because of not being able to get that part, my car is suddenly defunct. Although I seldom drive, I’ve been worrying all weekend about being permanently without a car since it’s so important to have for emergencies. And then suddenly it dawned on me: if I had to sell the car because the brakes didn’t work, you can darn well bet that whoever ended up with it would figure out how to get a master cylinder. So I am going to keep after my mechanic to make sure he finds a part. I plan on talking to him tomorrow to see if taking a picture of the part will help him locate the correct one, because I am not going to let this go. I’ve spent too much on the car in the past few years restoring it and making sure it runs perfectly to give up on it now.

As if that isn’t problem enough, I had a hard time dealing with my lawn mower today. Although I hadn’t planned on mowing the grass for a while, I noticed that a lot of people were mowing their lawns today — the people whose lawns had greened up — and one fellow I talked to said this was the right time. I contacted my contractor, and he agreed that it wasn’t too early to mow.

So, I got out the mower, found the battery, and dug out the instruction manual. I don’t use the mower enough for the practice to become second nature, so I have to relearn how to use it every spring. I got it started, it went a few feet, beeped, then stopped. I had no idea what was going on because the battery was full, but I went ahead and plugged the battery in the charger while I cleaned the mower of any possible clogs.

Eventually I got it to work. Apparently, the grass was too tall and too thick for the available power, so I raised the mower to the highest level, replaced the battery, and all was fine. The grass is still too tall, though if I don’t let it get much longer, perhaps the next time I try mowing I can cut it a bit shorter.

By the time all that was done, I didn’t have the energy to deal with the string edger (it’s actually a weed whacker, but it can be set to trim the edge of the grass). I don’t remember ever using it, so I have to start from scratch learning how to wrap the string and attach it and all the rest of it. That will be a project for another day.

I used to think I was good with mechanical objects, but apparently not. Still, this is just the beginning of the mowing season, so I will have plenty of time to get familiar with my tools. Perhaps this time the instructions will sink in so next year there won’t be all these problems.

Hopefully, long before then, the mechanic will find the right part to get my car running. Or rather, get it stopping.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of intriguing fiction and insightful works of grief.

A Promise of Good Things to Come

I had an enjoyable morning, watering my grass, bushes, and other plants. Seeing all the parts of my yard that are greening up made me think that perhaps I can do this gardening thing after all. I can even recognize some of the seedlings, such as the larkspur. Since I let the larkspur go to seed last year, there are large areas that should be covered with purple flowers later this spring.

I was also able to recognize some weeds that are sprouting, such as the wild mustard, which I pulled up. I was going to let it grow a bit thinking it wouldn’t do any harm as long as I didn’t let it flower, but as a neighbor reminded me, if I waited to pull up the mustard, I might pull up the larkspur along with the weed.

A lot of the tulips I planted are coming up, and most even seem to have buds on the way, so perhaps this time I planted them deep enough. A few of the lilies are coming up, too, which is surprising considering that the wrong planting depth was included with the bulbs, so I had to dig up the ones I could find and replant them in deeper holes.

My grass is doing astonishingly well. I have a hunch it’s way to early to mow since we are still way before the last frost, and I’m afraid that cutting the grass too soon would make it vulnerable during those late-season frosts. It’s possible it would do fine, but I don’t want to take a chance.

I wasn’t the only one enjoying my watering time this morning. I set the hose in the back yard, went to move the hose in the front, and when I came back, a robin was enjoying a private shower.

Loath to disturb the creature at its ablutions, I kept the water running in that one area way too long. Even after I went into the house for my camera, even after the robin preened a bit for me, I let the water run.

At one time, I’d considered setting up a birdbath because in a dry climate (and today was especially arid), birds appreciate any water they can find. Unfortunately, standing water is too risky in a place where mosquitoes are so much of a problem.

I always liked the idea of spring, but the reality — all that wind — made spring not one of my favorite seasons. Today, though, I got outside before the wind, so the day was all one expects of the spring — new growth, robins, and a promise of good things to come.

***

What if God decided S/He didn’t like how the world turned out, and turned it over to a development company from the planet Xerxes for re-creation? Would you survive? Could you survive?

A fun book for not-so-fun times.

Click here to buy Bob, The Right Hand of God.

Something to Celebrate

For many years after Jeff died, I was conflicted about life. If life mattered, why wasn’t he still here? And if life didn’t matter, why am I still here? I’m still conflicted when I think about it, so I don’t. At least I try not to. Instead, I try to focus on living, on making living a purposeful, active act rather than passively going about my days.

To that end, I try to find something to celebrate every day, perhaps a nice meal, an unexpected visit with a friend, a smile exchanged with someone I have business dealings with, or even just that the sun is shining.

Today I have something special to celebrate: the first tulip of the season!

Although not as spectacular, I also have a tiny clump of a bulbous perennial called Glory of the Snow that bloomed a day or two earlier.

There are still several weeks of possible frosts before planting. The weather seems to be taking that schedule to heart because most nights are getting down below freezing. I wouldn’t be surprised if this year the frost deadline is extended a week or two further into May, though it is warming up, and tomorrow will be downright balmy — in the eighties! Still, until the warmth and gardening weather is here to stay, it’s good to see — and celebrate — whatever decides to show its beautiful face.

And today it was the tulip.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One. “Grief: The Inside Story is perfect and that is not hyperbole! It is exactly what folk who are grieving need to read.” –Leesa Healy, RN, GDAS GDAT, Emotional/Mental Health Therapist & Educator.